


A dream of shadows

by adelaide_rain



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, M/M, Sort of tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 21:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelaide_rain/pseuds/adelaide_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Frost's thoughts are full of Pitch. About Pitch tying him up and making him shiver and gasp. About a very adult kind of fun that's a little scary as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jack’s not used to having somewhere to call home.

For so long he’s hopped from place to place, following the sound of laughter or leaving somewhere he’s bored of. But seeing the homes of the other Guardians made him want one of his own. It’s not a permanent thing, he tells himself, he’s just trying it out. If it doesn’t work out, he’ll move on.

In the planning stages, images of ice palaces and silver cities had blown across his mind like a blizzard; but when it came to it he decided that he wanted something like the only home he had ever known.

A couple of North’s yetis helped him build it, and now he has a log cabin, hidden in an icy nook where no-one will find him unless he wants them to. It’s small but without the need to accommodate an army of abominable snowmen or warrior eggs, it’s more than enough.

It’s strange how right it feels to be here, how comfortable he is. If he gets bored, the wind carries him to one of the nearby towns to cause mischief. He has everything he could ever want.

There is one thing he misses; he feels the loss of it deep in his heart. For the life of him he can’t think what it is.

===

In the main room of his log cabin is a comfortable couch. It’s brown and soft and huge, with plush blue cushions that Tooth gave him, with an embroidered pattern of tiny teeth around the edges. It’s big enough for him to lie down on, stretched out completely, and he loves to nap on it, to dip into the dreams that Sandy sends.

Today he wakes from his nap to find the fire grown low and the room thick with darkness.

_Pitch_ , is his first thought, and the memories of being stalked by the shadows in Pitch’s lair flicker through his mind. There is fear in those memories – and excitement, too.

Lying on his back, Jack frowns at the ceiling. He concentrates on the memory of excitement; it rouses odd feelings in him. The fear in those memories melts away, and Jack thinks only of Pitch's gracefulness, of how smooth and sharp his movements and his thoughts. On how it felt to have Pitch standing over him. With his mouth suddenly dry, Jack puts a hand over his eyes.

It’s not the first time he’s thought about this. It’s happening more and more often, usually when he’s in this sleepy, just-woken state. At first he’d thought that this new, relaxed lifestyle had lowered his defences, that maybe Pitch was sneaking into his dreams and adding a touch of nightmare. After weeks of it, he has another thought: this reaction is nothing to do with Pitch and everything to do with himself.

Swallowing, Jack’s hand sneaks down his body and into his pants, finding his dick already hard. This is how it is every time and he’s not even going to pretend that he doesn’t want it. He’s done it so many times that he already has a fantasy lined up:

Pitch has him naked and tied up with strands of shadows, wrists and ankles, with his legs spread wide. He touches Jack’s chest, stroking down to his waist and then back up to brush against his nipple.

“Please,” Jack whispers, breath quickening. “Please.”

“Please what?” Pitch asks, and shadows caress Jack, stroking up his legs, teasing little touches that don’t go anywhere he wants them to. In Jack’s fantasies, Pitch always teases him and never gives him anything unless he begs for it. It makes Jack achingly hard.

“I want you to touch me.”

“I am touching you,” Pitch says, stilling his hand on Jack’s chest, right over his breastbone.

“No,” Jack whines, pulling against his restraints. “I want you… I want… I want you in me. I want you to touch – my cock. I want-“ Jack’s voice hitches as one of the shadow strands curls gently around his throat and then nudges into his mouth. He moans around it, and his moan grows louder when another presses into his ass, somehow slick enough to slide inside him, stretching just a little more than a pair of fingers.

Jack’s heart hammers in his chest, and his dick is throbbing. It feels good but it’s not enough, it’s not what he wants. He wants _Pitch_ but he never gets him, never gets what he really wants, and with his mouth full of Pitch’s shadows he can’t even beg for it.

It’s not what he really wants, but it’s enough to make him come.

Jack’s back arches and he cries out, his fantasy shattering under the force of his climax and leaving him dazed and shivering. As his breath slows, he stares at the glowing coals in his hearth. He has to do something about this.

He has to find Pitch.


	2. Chapter 2

Once the decision is made, it’s easy enough to get to Pitch.

The portal that Jack used before is gone so he goes to Bunny, figuring that his rabbit holes should make getting into Pitch’s lair a cinch.

Crouching on a moss-covered rock in the Warren, Jack weaves a tale about wanting to try and change Pitch’s mind. Bunny looks up at him, arms folded and unconvinced.

“I want to tell him how much better my life is now that I’m helping people,” Jack says. “If I can convince him to help people then I just know he’ll be a better person.”

“Not sure about that, mate.”

“I have to try,” Jack says, leaping down from his perch. “C’mon, Bunny.”

“You won’t change his mind,” Bunny says flatly. “But if you’re sure, I’ll get you there.”

“I’m sure. Thanks, Bunny.”

“I don’t need to tell you that you’re putting yourself in danger.”

“I know,” Jack says, and shrugs. “But this is something that I have to do.”

Bunny looks at him for a long moment. “You’re a bloody idiot,” he says, and thumps his foot on the floor. Unprepared, Jack opens his mouth to say something but it’s too late. Dropping through the floor he goes from bright sunlight to gloom.

Raising a breeze to help him safely to the floor, Jack looks around the huge cavern, dark and cold, just how he remembers it. The cages that hang from the ceiling are empty, and the globe in the centre of the room is full of flickering lights. Jack spies the one that signifies Jamie and smiles.

As he walks around it, he feels a little guilty for lying to Bunny about his true purpose for coming here, but what else could he say? _It’s because I can’t stop thinking about him tying me up and fucking me with his shadow tentacles._

Besides, it wasn’t entirely a lie. When he watched the kids forget about Pitch, Jack had felt a spiteful glee at first; after all he’d put them through, he deserved it. Yet as time went on, the glee faded and melted into pity. After all, Jack knew just how it felt. 

He touches the wall and frost blooms across it, delicate and beautiful, and he smiles at the beauty of it- 

And then a jagged spike of fear cuts through his simple joy. 

Pitch.

_What am I doing?_ Jack thinks, heart hammering in his chest, then turns to see Pitch standing in the entry of a tunnel, half-hidden in shadows. His eyes narrow as he looks at Jack, who lets his frost continue to climb the wall.

Pitch steps out into the cavern slowly, circling Jack warily and looking around, as though he expects to see North hiding somewhere, sword in hand. "What are you doing here?"

Jack makes himself smile and feels the fear ebb away. "You're the one who said that the cold and the dark go together," he says, gesturing at the pattern he’s made on the wall of the cavern.

"You're the guardian of _fun_ ," Pitch sneers. "Fun and fear don't go together very well." 

"Of course they do," Jack counters, tossing his staff from hand to hand as he walks towards Pitch. "Some of the most fun you can have is when you're scared too. Roller coasters, sleds, bungee jumps. We could work well together."

Pitch doesn't reject the suggestion outright and that's a surprise; instead he looks at Jack with a suspicious glint in his eye. "Perhaps. But why are you here?"

"Because I want you to join us."

"Join you?" Pitch laughs and it echoes through the space, twisting as it does, and by the end there is something sad in it, a little bit of his heart that Jack is sure Pitch did not mean to reveal. "Oh yes, I'm certain the others can't _wait_ to offer me a chance to join your little gang."

"Then join _me_ ," Jack says, stepping closer to Pitch and touching his arm. It’s cool and hard; Jack can feel the strength in it. He licks his lips. "I've been thinking about it. The dark and the cold _do_ go together. Every night, I wonder... What if I'd accepted your offer?"

"You didn’t," Pitch says flatly. "And now I'm trapped here, like you wanted. Like you chose."

"If I wanted that, would I be here now?"

"Despite asking several times I'm still not sure _why_ you're here."

Jack pauses, thinking that it’s probably not the best thing to state his case immediately. He doesn’t even know how to put it into words. “Maybe I thought you might be lonely.”

“Don’t mock me,” Pitch says, eyes narrowing.

“I mean it,” Jack says. “I know what it’s like, remember? To have no-one see you or hear you or believe in you.”

“Are you _pitying_ me?” Pitch’s laughter echoes around the cavern once more, and he moves closer to Jack, towering over him. The shadows close in and Jack can’t suppress a shiver at how good the fear feels. “I don’t want your pity.”

“Then what do you want?” Jack asks, breathing heavy and not looking away. Whatever Pitch sees there makes him frown, and then he steps away, his robe swirling behind him as he walks away.

“A drink,” he says, and heads down the tunnel he appeared from. Jack pads after him, and Pitch looks over his shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Following you. You’ll want ice for your drink, right?”

Pitch’s lips twitch into a smile, just for a moment.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack looks around with interest as they head into a part of the cave he hasn’t seen before. A long hallway, steadily growing darker as they head away from the main cavern. There are a few geometric shapes carved into the floor that are sharp under Jack’s feet; other than that it’s unadorned, cold and unwelcoming. 

“You really dig this Dark Ages chic, huh?” Jack says, and Pitch ignores him.

Finally, just as the light has all but faded, Pitch pushes open a door to the left. Jack follows him and looks around the room curiously. 

It’s a living room with sofas and bookcases, lit by flickering torches that cast shivering shadows on the walls. The torches lend a warmth to the space and make it homey, in a gothic kind of way. Everything is black with accents of burnished gold, or dark, dark wood. The overall effect is elegant and luxurious. 

Sinking onto one of the chairs, Jack finds that it’s comfortable as well. Sighing happily he swings his legs over the arm of the seat.

"I take back what I said," Jack calls out as Pitch moves to the other side of the room. "You've got great taste."

When Pitch continues to ignore him, Jack gets up and walks over, peering around to see Pitch pouring himself a drink from a decanter into a crystal-cut glass. The liquid is dark red, almost black.

"Can I have some?" Jack asks, and when Pitch pauses, Jack laughs and leans on his staff. "Come on. Are you gonna ask me for ID? I'm old enough, I swear."

Pitch looks at him for a long moment with an expression that Jack can’t identify, then pours a second glass before holding his own up. "So where's my ice?"

Jack obediently fills the glass, enjoying the clinking, crackling sound it makes, then goes back to his seat, sniffing at his drink. It smells rich and strong and heady. 

Pitch settles into the other chair and lays one slim leg over the other. Jack blinks; Pitch has _nice_ legs. "Are you going to tell me why you're really here?" 

"I did. Mostly." Jack takes a sip of his drink to distract himself from Pitch’s legs. It's delicious; sour and rich. 

"Stop being such a brat," Pitch snaps, but Jack just grins at him.

"What're you going to do to stop me?" Jack's voice goes deep, not really on purpose, and it makes Pitch look at him in a way that sparks hope in Jack; maybe there’s a chance he might get what he wants, if he can figure out how to ask for it. 

"Ignore you." 

Going to one of the bookcases that line the room, Pitch selects a book bound in black leather. He returns to his chair and opens it as though Jack isn’t even there. 

Jack isn't going to be ignored that easily. He goes over to where Pitch sits and squeezes in beside him. The seat isn't really meant for two people but Jack is determined. His right side is pressed close against Pitch, who is not as cold as Jack but not as warm as a human. He smells nice, which surprises Jack; he had expected fear to be bitter or sour, but Pitch smells of resin and sweet smoke, of things that were given as offerings years ago to keep the fear at bay.

"You can't ignore a guest," Jack says. “It’s not polite.”

"I didn't invite you."

"It's still rude. Read to me."

Pitch pauses and then sighs, giving in. No doubt he senses that this at least will get Jack to be quiet for a while. 

The story is about a war, a story of loss and darkness. It's terribly sad and Pitch knows just how to read it to make the emotions plummet. It makes Jack drink quickly, trying to get rid of the bitter taste of sadness.

"The story not to your taste?" It’s meant to be mocking but under the mockery Jack can hear something else, something bleak and hopeless. 

Jack senses that this is important story, something that he should be paying attention to, but the sadness makes his chest ache.

"I just need another drink," he says, and when he stands his feet are unsteady beneath him. 

"If you get drunk don’t expect me to look after you," Pitch calls as Jack heads over to the decanter. Jack ignores him; he can handle it.

Once his glass is full he returns to Pitch’s side and the story continues again. One of the great heroes of the war has been put on guard duty, with the enemies chittering and whispering from behind the prison bars. Day by day it gnaws at the guard, chipping slowly away at everything that makes him good. 

"But that's not fair," Jack interrupts. Pitch looks sidelong at him. "If these bad guys were such a big deal then why was this poor guy left there in his own? It's like his bosses wanted him to fail."

"Who else would have stood up to the creatures for so long?" Pitch asks, his voice distant; Jack guesses that this story means a lot to him. 

"That's kind of my point. If they'd given him-“ Jack pauses and waves his hand, “Weekends, vacations. Someone else could cover to give him a break. If he was the greatest warrior then I'm sure the second greatest warrior could have relieved him every once in a while."

Pitch closes the book and tries to take the glass from Jack, saying "I think you've had enough of that."

Jack snatches it away and drinks it in one gulp. 

He feels… Not drunk but – foggy. 

There are so many things he wants to say – about the story, about why he’s here with Pitch – but whenever he tries to concentrate on anything it’s like the thoughts just slip from his grasp. But he _wants_ , wants so much that it burns, burns like something he's never felt before.

An idea comes to him and before he can think better of it, he pushes himself up and resettles in Pitch's lap, straddling him; his hands go to Pitch's shoulders for balance. Pitch goes very still, eyes narrowed, but he doesn’t speak. 

"It's not _fair_ ," Jack continues, squeezing Pitch’s shoulders for emphasis. "After he did all that he should have been allowed a happy ending. He was a _hero_. And they just disrespected him."

Pitch is silent and Jack looks at him, trying to think of something to say. The room is spinning softly. Rubbing his eyes to try and get it to stop doesn’t work. 

Pitch sighs and pushes Jack to his feet, catches his arm when he almost falls. 

Maybe he is drunk. 

"You need to go to bed," Pitch tells him, and leads him from the room. Jack has just enough foresight to grab his staff on the way out. 

"You got a bed for me?" 

"I’m the boogeyman," Pitch says with a crooked smile. "Beds are something of a speciality for me." 

"You gonna hide under my bed?" Jack asks as he sinks to the mattress. He giggles and wraps his hand around Pitch's wrist. "You could join me in it instead." 

Pitch just looks at him, layers in his expression that Jack's drunk mind can't even begin to comprehend. 

"Go to sleep," Pitch says, melting into the shadows. 

Jack does as he's told. 


	4. Chapter 4

Jack stays in bed most of the next day. When he wakes he groans and burrows back under the covers, emerging only when the world stops spinning. 

When he eventually crawls out of bed, he realises that he has no idea where he is; he's seen so little of Pitch's lair, he has no idea how far it extends. His curiosity is wakened and he goes exploring. 

The cave is a strange place. Straight paths somehow end back where they began; steps that seem to go up lead to places far below.

Eventually he finds an open space, dark and quiet, where a waterfall spills into a silver pool. Jack puts his staff down and dips a hand into the water, quickly splashing it onto his face before it freezes. 

Crouching there, he wonders where he is. The place has a majesty, a reverence; it seems almost like a shrine but to who, to what? There are no pictures; the only thing that Jack can find is a carving, a series of sigils carved into the wall.

"Can you read it?"

Jack turns to see Pitch, watching and half hidden in shadows. His face is barely visible and his voice holds no clues as to his temperament today. It makes Jack wary. He hasn't forgotten how dangerous Pitch can be, nor how mercurial his moods.

"No," Jack says and touches the carving, ice spreading under his fingers. 

"It's an old language. Very old."

There's a long pause and Jack feels another prickle of fear, another doubt as to why he is here. 

But then he remembers last night. 

Pitch was - almost gentle. And he left Jack's staff in the bedroom. Jack was out cold. It would have been the perfect time to steal it away or to break it, leaving Jack powerless. Jack's still not certain he can trust him, but it's a good sign. 

"I can read English, more or less. Taught myself. I couldn't when I was-" Alive? Human? Jack still hasn't quite come to terms in thinking of himself in that way. "Before. My family didn't have much money-"

"I know."

"...you know?"

"You were something of a pet project, truth be told," Pitch says, stepping out of the shadows. "Fearless. Reckless. North and the rest can say what they like, but fear protects. A little fear would've changed everything for you, wouldn't it?"

Jack turns to him, eyes wide. A little more fear, a little more caution, and he wouldn't have- he wouldn't be whatever he is now. 

"You- knew me?"

Pitch shrugs and touches the frost-covered sigils, stroking long fingers over them almost lovingly. "Children who refuse to be scared infuriate me," he says and gives Jack a smile that is not altogether friendly. "And you were certainly one of them."

"Sorry to be such a thorn in your side," Jack says but the humour in his voice is weak. To think that Pitch's lessons in fear could have saved him. It's a humbling thought. It's the first time he's considered that Pitch's work could be helpful. But fear can protect - in balance.

The thought makes him uncomfortable. He came here for selfish reasons but perhaps he could genuinely do some good. If he could just get Pitch to listen, to understand...

Needing distraction from all these thoughts, Jack steps onto the pool. It turns to ice beneath his feet. When he gets to the waterfall, he touches it with his staff and it freezes in place with a crackling noise. Jack flicks it with his fingers, smiling at the tinkling sound.

"Maybe you're right," he says eventually, turning to look at Pitch. "Maybe you could have saved me. But I don't regret saving my sister."

Pitch smiles darkly. "Of course you don't. That's why _you_ were chosen to be a Guardian. Goody goody Jack Frost."

"Hey now," Jack says, returning to the shore to lean on his staff and give his most charming grin, "Don't tarnish my reputation. Goody goody? Me?"

"A little mischief doesn't make you any less _good_."

"And a little chaos doesn't make you evil," Jack counters and instantly realises it was the wrong thing to say. Pitch's face changes, becomes dark and cruel and angry.

"Are you forgetting who I am?" Pitch snarls. "Do you think I'm one of your friends, all light and kindness and hope? I'm darkness and shadows, Jack, I'm-"

"Lonely."

Pitch jerks back like he's been slapped.

"I know," Jack says. "I know what it's like to be lonely. You know I do. I get it - you're the Nightmare King but you were right when you said about fear protecting too. Maybe I am misjudging how bad you are but I think you're misjudging yourself too."

Pitch steps away and shakes his head. "That's where you're wrong."

Jack follows him, crowding in and talking quickly. "Is it? Then why look after me last night? Why not break my staff and throw me in one of your cages?" 

"Because I thought that you might still join me. We could do great things together-"

"And back when you first tried to convince me - you could've killed me then, too. It would have made sense - I was the one who had most power over you. And you didn't-"

"Don't make me regret my mistake," Pitch hisses and steps back into the shadows. Jack is angry and he feels a thrill too - he's getting somewhere, there _is_ some good in Pitch. He grabs Pitch's wrist and as he melts into the shadows, Jack is pulled along with him.

They're back in the living room and Pitch rounds on Jack, looking angry and confused at once.

"If you're so sure that I'm not so bad, then why are you afraid?"

"I'm not afraid," Jack says on impulse. 

Pitch laughs, and there's something broken in it, like the sound of icebergs cracking. "I told you, Jack, it's the one thing I always know."

Pitch circles him and it makes Jack shiver, makes blood rush to his dick and remind him why he came here. Maybe this isn't the right time - but when is the right time?

"I can feel your fear," Pitch says, circling him, and though he means to scare Jack, it only makes him harder. "What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm scared to ask for what I want. I’m scared I won't get it."

"What _do_ you want?" Pitch hisses, so close to Jack that he can feel his body heat. 

"You," Jack whispers. Feeling a sudden surge of bravery, or maybe recklessness, Jack reaches for Pitch's hand and presses it to his dick. "You."

Pitch's eyes widen but he doesn't pull away. Instead he squeezes gently and his eyes glitter when Jack gives a soft moan. "You want _me_?"

"Yes," Jack murmurs, leaning his staff against a chair so that he can curl his hands in Pitch's robe; it's soft and rich under his fingers. "I can't stop thinking about you. I just remember the way it felt - when you were chasing me- ungh-" Jack has to pause when Pitch starts to stroke him through his trousers. 

"When I was chasing you?"

"I was scared," Jack says, voice breaking, and he bucks into Pitch's hand. "But there was more- I didn't realise it at the time. But later, when I thought about it… I realised I liked it -" 

Pitch's other hand slides under Jack's hoodie, stroking up his side and leaving a trail of warmth in his wake. Jack's eyes flutter shut and he revels in the rare feeling of being touched, of having someone's warmth against his skin. The scent of Pitch is intoxicating; it makes Jack want to get on his knees. 

"You like being scared?" Pitch asks, and Jack opens his eyes to see Pitch looking down at him. His eyes are still wary but he is still touching Jack, making him shiver with need and anticipation.

"I liked... I liked the feeling of you with all this power over me and I just - I want you to- I want to just turn myself over to you - not in a battle or anything-" he adds quickly, feeling ridiculous and inappropriate but it’s something he needs to say; and besides, what about this _isn’t_ ridiculous and inappropriate? "Just-"

"Just like this." 

Jack nods, desperately pleased that Pitch seems to understand what he's asking for, because he's so bad at putting it into words. 

"Then tell me," Pitch purrs. "Tell me what you want."

"I-I-"

"You have to tell me," Pitch says again and steps back so that they're no longer touching. Jack groans at the loss of contact and tries to reach out for him. 

"Please, I- please."

"Please what? You have to tell me."

"I want-" This is embarrassing - funny how it never seemed that way in his fantasy. But Jack is desperate, and being made to beg for what he wants is still hot even if it is embarrassing. "I want you to tie me up and fuck me- or I can suck you off- or- I just- please, okay?"

And then something snakes around his arms, pulling his hands behind his back. Jack twists and sees that ribbons of black shadow are wrapped around his wrists, holding him tight. 

Without a word, Pitch picks up Jack's staff. There's just enough time for Jack to feel a flicker of doubt, of real fear, before Pitch leans it against the wall behind Jack, just within reach of his bound hands.

Jack stares at Pitch. It's the most perfect thing he could have done. He can trust Pitch. There's still the delicious fear but the suspicion is gone. 

With a cocky smile, Jack says, "Let's play."

Pitch laughs and it's like silk, smooth and shivery. "Alright Jack. Let's have a little _fun_."


	5. Chapter 5

Pitch stands back and looks at Jack as if appraising him. There is heat in his gaze as he looks Jack up and down, and back again. 

Without a word, he steps forward and his hands go to Jack's waist, thumbs slipping under the hoodie to stroke his skin for just a moment before he unbuckles Jack's belt and pushes his trousers down. Jack steps out and them and shivers, but it has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. He can hear his heartbeat thudding dully in his ears and everything tingles in anticipation. 

When Pitch takes Jack's dick in hand and starts to stroke him skin-to-skin for the first time, a whine escapes from Jack's throat before he can stop it. It makes Pitch smile at him and stroke his cheek with his other hand.

"Do you like that?" Pitch purrs. "Me touching you, knowing there's nothing you can do to stop me?"

"Yes. Yes, yes."

"So _cold_ ," Pitch says, looking down at where his fingers are wrapped around Jack's dick. Jack looks too and licks his lips. He's getting exactly what he wanted and it still doesn't seem real.

"Just wait 'til you're inside me," he manages with a breathless grin. "I've been told it's a unique sensation."

"I look forward to it."

Pitch is still stroking him, slow and firm, teasing and not enough. He looks down at Jack thoughtfully, then slides his thumb over the tip of Jack's dick. It makes Jack's vision blur, and he gives an embarrassing noise that is muffled when Pitch presses his thumb into Jack's mouth. He can taste his own precome on it and moans. 

He's not sure he's ever wanted anything as much as he wants Pitch. It probably means something that he feels this way about the person that is supposed to be his enemy; but Jack's never been too good at self-analysis, especially not when he has a hard-on.

"I assume you've done this before," Pitch says, dropping his hand from Jack's mouth and returning to stroke Jack's dick. He holds him a little firmer now, moves a little quicker; it’s the perfect combination.

Jack blinks, his ability to think fragmenting as Pitch's hand moves a little faster. All he can do is groan and scrabble against the shadows that bind his wrists tight. He gives a weak grin and says, "Worried you might be taking my innocence?"

"More like I want to be sure that you know what you're doing."

"If you mean being tied up by shadows then no, this is my first time. But if you mean sex then yeah, of course. I mean, come on: you don't get to three hundred years of looking like me without a few cute guys throwing themselves at you."

Pitch pauses, rubbing his thumb over Jack's slit and another groan escapes Jack's lips. 

"Anyone I know?"

"Uh," Jack says, brain short circuiting; it's hard to concentrate when receiving the best handjob of your life. "The Holly King."

Pitch nods approvingly. "Very nice."

"And the last guy I was with was Jack O'Lantern."

"But he- turns into a pumpkin."

"Yeah, but he's hot when he's not a pumpkin."

Pitch sighs a breath of laughter and reaches down to cup Jack's balls with his other hand, squeezing just hard enough to make him whine. "And what am I, Jack? Am I hot?"

"Yeah," Jack says, breathing heavy and looking into Pitch's eyes. "But mostly you're _scary_."

Pitch's laugh is real then, deep and dark. "Good answer."

"I can be good, on occasion."

"Why don't you start now? Show me how talented that pretty little mouth of yours is."

"Yessir," Jack says, trying not sound too eager. He loves giving blow jobs and it’s one thing he _knows_ he’s good at.

Shadows pull Jack onto his knees in front of Pitch. Jack looks up at him, feeling a thrill at being in this position, on his knees with Pitch looming over him.

Pitch tugs open his robe. Beneath, chest and stomach are slim but finely muscled and Jack's eyes roam them hungrily, wanting to touch.

And then Pitch slides down those tight black trousers, just enough to free his dick, and Jack shivers, anticipation and excitement roaring through him. Pitch's dick is long and slim, and Jack leans forward to lap at it. The taste makes him grin - it's been far too long since he did this.

" _Cold_ ," Pitch says with a gasp, and Jack pulls back to grin up at him.

"I told you so. I can stop if you like."

"Don't you dare," Pitch says, grabbing a handful of Jack's hair and guiding him back to his dick.

With his hands bound it's a little difficult to balance, to get Pitch exactly where he wants him.

"I've never done this without using my hands as well," Jack says, shifting on his knees to try and get a good position.

"You're the one who said you wanted to be tied up - and you do look _lovely_ like that."

Jack licks his lips. "I do want it. I like it, a lot. It's just different, is all."

"Then I hope you're a fast learner."

He is. 

He quickly learns the best way to kneel, and though the bare floor is still hard under his knees, it is just another reminder that this is really happening. Licking the shaft from base to tip, Jack laps hungrily at the wetness he finds there and wraps his lips around the head. He takes him deeper, the weight of it on his tongue making his own dick ache. The smoky scent is richer here, muskier, and Jack whimpers, wanting, wanting.

Pitch's hands curl in his hair and Jack looks up at Pitch, lips still stretched around his dick.

"Beautiful," Pitch murmurs. "Just beautiful."

Pleased with the compliment, Jack gets back to work, slowly taking more in his mouth. One of Pitch's hands strokes his hair and the other pulls, just enough to give a twinge of pain, and that gets Jack hot too.

Since they're one of Jack's favourite things, he's had plenty of experience with blow jobs. He's determined to impress Pitch and he slowly takes him all the way in his mouth, swallowing him down. Pitch gives a pleased noise and Jack looks up again, almost the whole length of Pitch's dick in his throat.

"You _are_ a fast learner," Pitch says, and both hands curl in his hair. "Though, as talented as you are, _I_ want to be in charge."

He starts to thrust into Jack's mouth, sliding out and nearly all the way back in. With his hands bound and his head being held in place, all Jack can do is groan and love it: love Pitch having this power over him; love having his long dick down his throat; love the way the shadows hold his wrists firmly.

So when after only a few minutes of fucking Jack's mouth, Pitch pulls away, Jack moans at the loss. His own dick is throbbing, begging to be touched. Pitch smirks down at him and musses his hair.

"You like that, do you?"

"Yes," Jack rasps. "So good."

"It'll feel just as good when I'm fucking you," Pitch says, and Jack is already so far gone that all he can do is nod desperately.

“Please,” he whispers, and the smile Pitch gives him then makes him catch his breath. 

“You’re going to get _everything_ you’ve asked for, Jack. I hope you can take it.”


	6. Chapter 6

Pitch strips out of his clothes and they pool at his feet like shadows. Everything about him is slender and strong. He looks down at Jack, haughty and self-assured, and Jack licks his lips.

“You look good on your knees,” Pitch says.

Jack’s mouth opens to respond with a flippant comment, but he bites his lip. “It feels good,” he whispers, and Pitch smiles.

“For all that you’re a cocky little brat, you really just want someone to put you in your place, don’t you? Well, I’m more than happy to be that someone.” Pitch strokes his hair and it’s all that Jack can do not to rub up against him like a cat. It’s a little horrifying how submissive Pitch makes him feel, how much he wants to please him. Pitch is giving him what he wants; he seems to understand what that is more than Jack himself.

The shadows pull Jack to his feet and Pitch looks down at him, strokes a finger down his jawline. Without a word, he pushes Jack over the arm of the chair.

“Hey-“ Jack starts, annoyed at being thrown around, but then Pitch lowers his head and gently bites his ass cheek and suddenly Jack doesn’t care any more.

“Lovely,” Pitch says, kissing his shoulder blades now, their bodies fitted together; Pitch’s cock rests between Jack’s ass cheeks and _fuck_ Jack wants this. He whines and thrusts his hips back against Pitch. 

A silky chuckle in his ear makes Jack moan. “Desperate, aren’t you?”

“Yes!”

“I could use you,” Pitch says, standing straight and doing something behind Jack that he can’t quite figure out. Only when Pitch pushes Jack's legs together does he get it; Pitch’s dick is between his thighs, thrusting into that tight space, the tip whispering against Jack’s balls. “Like this,” Pitch says, grunting as he thrusts. “This feels good. Almost as good as fucking you would.”

“Please!” If Jack wasn’t so desperate he might be embarrassed about begging like this, but he _is_ desperate-

“I’m only playing, Jack; just having a little _fun_. I’ll do what you want, what you’re so prettily begging for.”

Everything is almost too much and Jack’s next _please_ is almost a sob.

“I will,” Pitch promises and Jack looks over his shoulder to see Pitch dipping his fingers in a small jar that he's conjured from somewhere. When one of those fingers touches his hole, cold and slick from whatever's in the jar, Jack hides his face against a cushion on the chair and curls his hands into fists.

“Relax,” Pitch says, his other hand stroking gently up Jack’s spine. The stroking brings him down a few notches and his hands unclench. “Good boy.”

Jack draws in a shaky breath and when Pitch's finger pushes into him he forgets to breathe out. 

“Relax,” Pitch tells him again, a touch of scolding in his voice.

Jack takes several deep breaths and the discomfort burns away, starts to feel good.

“There we are,” Pitch says, sounding pleased, and pushes the rest of the way in him - Jack can feel his knuckles against his ass. “That feels good, doesn’t it?”

For a moment Jack can’t speak, all the sensations dizzying. “Yeah,” he manages eventually.

“Do you want another?”

“Yes,” he says, not even pausing. He breathes out shakily as Pitch slides in a second finger; he can feel the stretch and there’s something like an ache but it feels good. His body’s remembering how to do this, remembering how to relax and take it.

Pitch pulls out almost all the way then back in and pleasure lances through Jack. Pitch doesn’t stop, keeps fucking him with his fingers, and soon Jack is gasping and writhing. He doesn’t want it to end, so when Pitch starts to pull away Jack pushes his ass up to meet his hand.

Chuckling, Pitch grasps Jack’s hip with his free hand and pulls him into tempo so Jack is jerking back as Pitch presses forward. It gives him some control but mostly he loves it because it means Pitch’s fingers are deep in him, fucking him hard.

“You love this, don’t you?” Pitch murmurs, bending over to kiss Jack’s back. His dick nudges Jack’s ass.

“Yes,” Jack gasps, meaning the finger fucking and the promise of more. “Another,” he whispers, and digs his nails into his palms when he gets it. That hurts, the stretch burns but it’s balanced by a thrum of pleasure low in his stomach. It hurts, it’s good, it’s almost too much. He aches with the need to come, his cock is throbbing and god, he wants it, but he wants to come with Pitch inside him.

He buries his face in the cushion, the cloth damp from saliva and tears that he doesn't remember shedding. For a few seconds he tries to wrest himself under control, to stop making the pathetic little sobs that bubble from his throat, but he can’t control anything. He’s so used to people not seeing him that he's not used to hiding his emotions, but the idea of Pitch seeing how desperate he is _scares_ him.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Pitch asks and Jack feels every point of contact: Pitch’s fingers inside him; the other hand stroking his back; Pitch's leg between his thighs, pressing them apart and spreading him open. “I want to hear you to say it, Jack.”

Jack still can’t speak, the only noises his mouth seems able to shape are whimpers and moans. There’s a pause and then Pitch’s fingers withdraw and Jack is startled by a pang of panic and emptiness.

Pitch shushes him and gently bites at the back of his neck. Having their bodies spooned together like this is comforting but not enough. The press of Pitch’s cock flush against the curve of his ass makes him gasp and remember Pitch’s question. _Yes_ , he wants to say, _yes, please_. But it’s like there’s a shortcircuit somewhere because he still can’t form the words. Instead he just enjoys Pitch’s weight on him as he tries to calm down enough to speak and tell Pitch how much he wants it.

“Please,” he says, cheeks burning. “Please, I-“ He still feels so empty inside, and if he wasn't bound like this, he would grab Pitch’s hand, guiding it back to his ass. Instead he's going to have to ask for it, however mortifying it is. “Please, I feel - empty. Finger me, or fuck me, or - something, _please_.”

Pitch laughs, deep and velvety, with a hint of cruelty that makes Jack shiver, just a little. He's afraid Pitch will refuse, will pull away and disappear, leaving him bound and helpless. But then he slides his fingers - two, Jack thinks - back inside, and the panic evaporates. He takes deep breaths and when he feels something approaching calm, he looks over his shoulder. 

“Fuck me. Please.”

That makes Pitch smile again, sharp and brilliant like shards of a cracked mirror.

“You look completely wrecked like this,” Pitch tells him, wiping away the tears that dampen Jack’s cheeks. “Broken and desperate. It's beautiful.”

He puts a hand to Jack's chin and leans forward to kiss him, softer and more tender than he was expecting. It's surprisingly sweet to start with but Jack's soon whimpering into Pitch’s mouth.

This time when Pitch pulls back, he picks up the jar and coats his cock with it.

Jack watches and his heart does a shivering twisty thing. A little fear, a little excitement. It's certainly not his first time and it's not even his first time being fucked by someone with dubious morals, but it _is_ his first time being fucked by a full-on enemy. While tied up and at his mercy. The thought turns him on far more than it scares him, and Jack wonders what that says about himself.

Pitch pushes apart Jack’s knees and strokes a finger over his hole. He’s looking down at Jack, at the most private parts of him, with a slightly crooked smile. 

Jack can feel his own heartbeat in his throat as Pitch kisses his way up his body and when his lips reach Jack's neck, Pitch’s dick is pressing against his entrance. Jack whimpers, pressing his fingernails into his palms.

“Ready?” Pitch whispers, his lips brushing Jack’s neck.

“Yes.”


	7. Chapter 7

When Pitch presses in, Jack yelps, burying his face in the cushion. The stretch is – painful. Exquisite. It’s almost too much but Pitch’s hands are there on his waist, holding him steady. Sucking in deep breaths of air, Jack digs his nails into his palms and gives small little gasps as Pitch inches into him.

“So _cold_ ,” Pitch murmurs, and Jack wants to make some kind of comment – _surely you were expecting that by now_ – but there’s some sort of system error between his brain and his mouth and all he can do is whimper.

Pleasure spills over Jack like the encroaching dark, enveloping him, consuming him. By the time Pitch is all the way inside, his hips pressed against Jack’s ass, Jack is gasping, his cheeks wet with tears again. 

And then Pitch pauses and pulls out of Jack and steps away. Panic rips through Jack and he cries out. 

"No! Please -“ The shadows around his wrists pull Jack to his feet and he staggers, looking wildly at Pitch.

Pitch shushes him, running his fingers through Jack’s hair. “It’s alright, we’re just getting a little more comfortable,” he says, voice full of gentle reassurance.

Relief crashes over Jack, the panic crumbles under the weight of it, and he watches as Pitch sits in the chair, all angles and long, lean limbs. Fierce want roars through him and he tries to move forward to press against Pitch but the shadows hold him where he is. Pitch smirks at his struggles. 

"I'm not going to stop when we're having so much fun. Come here." 

He tangles his fingers in the front of Jack’s hoodie and pulls him into his lap. One arm goes around Jack’s back, holding him steady, the other positions him. Jack lets him do what he wants, lets Pitch put him exactly where he wants him. Letting someone have control like this is so relaxing, makes him feel loose and boneless and happy. 

“That's better," Pitch says, stroking a finger down Jack’s jaw. "Now you can look at me. See just who you’re fucking."

“Don’t let me fall,” Jack whispers with a spike of irrational fear.

“That would hardly be in my best interests, would it?” Pitch says with a crooked smile. His eyes are golden and confident, and looking into them makes Jack’s mouth dry. He nods and bows his head, and Pitch lifts one hand to card through his hair. The other wraps around Jack’s waist a little tighter. “Go on. You want me inside you, don’t you? Ride me.”

There’s a commanding note in Pitch’s voice and it makes the desire to do as he’s told flare in Jack. Being bound makes it a little awkward, but he wants to please Pitch and he _needs_ to be filled again. He shifts so that he can feel Pitch’s dick against his ass, and Pitch drops a hand to hold it steady, to make it easier for Jack to fuck himself onto it. 

Biting his lip, Jack angles himself as well as he can and lowers his hips, giving a broken little noise at the first push of Pitch’s cock inside of him.

“That’s right,” Pitch says encouragingly. “That feels good, doesn’t it?”

Jack nods and presses his hips down so that Pitch is all the way inside him. Taking a shuddering breath, he lifts his hips again, lets them fall. After a few erratic movements, he finds his rhythm, and Pitch gives a dark smile.

Looking into his eyes as they fuck adds something to this; it makes it more personal, more real. Scarier. This is _Pitch_. Jack knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but he needs it. Before he came here he burned for it, and it’s better than he ever imagined. It feels – incredible; Jack doesn’t have the words for it. Every roll of his hips takes Pitch’s cock all the way inside him, deep and perfect. Jack’s own cock rubs against Pitch’s stomach with every movement and hot tingling sparks flash through him. Pleasure builds and builds, becomes almost painful, and Jack closes his eyes, as if blocking out one sense will make the sensations more bearable. 

“Open your eyes,” Pitch murmurs, gently chastising, and Jack’s eyes snap open at the command. Pitch is smiling, just the slightest whisper of malice in his eyes. It makes Jack shiver, a touch of fear creeping up his spine and bleeding beautifully into the pleasure. "This is what you wanted, isn’t it? My cock in you, all tied up in my shadows?"

"Yes," Jack whispers, and tries to keep up his rhythm but fails, each time distracted by how _good_ it feels. “It’s perfect.”

“Of course it is,” Pitch purrs, pleased, and joins the effort, thrusting up to meet Jack’s hips.

It makes Jack redouble his own efforts. He came here, this was his choice; he’s going to finish what he started. Pitch told Jack to ride him, and that’s what he will do. And if there’s a part of Jack that responds to the order – that wants to do anything Pitch asks of him – well. That’s something that he’s never going to tell anyone, that he’ll think about a lot when he’s alone in his cabin, mostly while naked and gasping.

He frowns as he concentrates, hands curl into fists, but with every passing second it seems even more of a lost cause. He’s already lost control of his words and a constant barrage of _please_ and wordless whimpers spill from his mouth. Pitch just gives a velvet chuckle and slips a hand under Jack’s hoodie, nails scraping across Jack’s back. It makes him cry out, the new sensation adding another layer of pleasure to all the others that Jack is buried under. 

Still, he’s trying, and he feels like he still has something of a grip on himself, until after a few moment, Pitch speaks. 

“That’s a good boy,” he says, and Jack is lost. He chokes, a surge of emotion stampeding through him. Normally he would find those words condescending but Pitch’s voice is so praising. “You’re trying so hard, aren’t you? But I’m making you feel so good. It’s alright, Jack. Just let me have control. That’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jack says, eyes widening in realisation. That’s _exactly_ what he wants. After years of loneliness, of wandering aimlessly, not knowing if he’s doing the right thing, it’s _exactly_ what he wants. Someone to tell him what to do; to take care of him.

“I’ll look after you,” Pitch promises, and Jack shakes, coming apart under Pitch’s promise as much as the pleasure. He feels utterly vulnerable but Pitch has hold of him, his arms tight around Jack’s waist, his shadows holding Jack firmly where he needs to be.

Pitch smiles at him, utterly confident and in control, and Jack stares at him, breathing growing slowly more uneven as his pleasure builds. It feels like the world is reduced to just the two of them, to their entwined bodies, their gasps and their spiralling pleasure.

“Come for me,” Pitch orders, and just with that Jack is teetering on the edge. 

_For me._

Just a few more thrusts and it crashes over him like an avalanche, sweeping away the debris and leaving him a blank slate, all the frustration and loneliness gone, reset to zero. He feels like liquid, like he could melt, but Pitch holds him close, holds him safe. 

Jack leans his face against Pitch’s neck, smiling as Pitch continues to fuck him, thrusts growing more and more erratic, and feels a sense of wonder and delight that it’s him, that it’s his body, that is finally making Pitch lose his control. 

A few more thrusts and then Pitch gives a choked noise, hips stilling, and Jack gives a small, broken moan at the thought that Pitch is coming inside him. 

They gasp together, chasing their breath. The arms around Jack’s waist are shaking; _Pitch_ is shaking, all over. Jack is too, and they sit there, leaning into each other, slowly coming down. 

It’s a tremendous effort to lift his head and open leaden eyelids; but when he does, Jack sees that Pitch is looking at him wonderingly, like he’s just discovered a rare treasure in an unexpected place.

He doesn’t speak; he just pulls Jack to him, tight enough to hurt. Not that Jack cares about the pain; being held him so tightly makes him feel wanted, like he’s a precious thing that Pitch thinks worthy of keeping close. 

He leans into Pitch’s neck again and closes his eyes. If it wasn’t for the shadows binding him, Pitch’s arms around him, Jack feels like he’d float away. It’s a state of zen like nothing he’s ever known.

They stay like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, let me say I am SO SORRY this took so long. I must have rewritten it four times and spent more time on this one chapter that I have the whole rest of the story. Still, it's done now. I'm still not 100% happy with it, but I don't think I can look at it objectively any more, so I truly hope it reads okay. 
> 
> Second, while struggling with this I tried to take my mind of it by writing something else. It explores a lot of the same themes that this fic does, though it goes into the relationship much more deeply. It's called [Like drowning](http://archiveofourown.org/works/640834) if you'd like to read it. Hopefully it will tide you over until I post the next part of this!
> 
> Speaking of the next (and last!) part/s: I already have it written. The only problem is I have _two_ versions, so I need to decide which one to go with. Once I have, I'll edit and post. There's a super-angsty version and a sort-of angsty version, if you'd like to cast your vote!
> 
> Also, I have an [art/fic tumblr](http://adelaide-rain.tumblr.com/) where I'll be posting updates, which might be helpful if you don't have an AO3 account :)
> 
> Lastly: thank you all SO much for reading. I really appreciate you sticking with me on this! For everyone who's left kudos or commented, or liked or reblogged on tumblr, I am endlessly grateful <3
> 
> (longest note ever, sorry ^^;)


	8. Chapter 8

Even the most wonderful moments can’t stay frozen in time.

Slowly Jack spirals back to himself, becoming more aware of his body – of the ache in his shoulders; the stretch of his thighs; the rawness of his throat from crying out.

He tries to recapture the feeling of utter contentment but it slips away from him. He feels a deep sense of loss and buries his face in Pitch’s neck, suddenly, bizarrely, wanting to cry.

He breathes deeply, trying to wrest control of himself, trying to convince himself that he’s being ridiculous; but it’s only when Pitch starts to stroke his back that he starts to relax, the tension spilling away and leaving him with a little of his earlier serenity.

When the shadows slip away from him he feels another moment of panic, but Pitch is there, offering him silent comfort, and Jack gulps it down greedily, wrapping his own arms around Pitch tightly.

Eventually he feels more like himself, but at the same time he feels a whisper of grief, like he’s lost something he might never get back.

Jack rests his head against Pitch's neck and breathes in his scent. Pitch strokes his hair - he seems fascinated by Jack’s hair; his fingers have been in it half the time they were fucking. Not that Jack’s complaining. He sighs and presses a little closer to Pitch.

“You like that?” Pitch asks.

“If I could, I’d be purring right now.”

“Is that so, kitten,” Pitch says with a soft laugh, and continues to pet Jack.

Being called _kitten_ makes something deep inside Jack stir, ache, want; but he’s too tired to delve into it. He’ll think about it later.

“I always knew you’d be a crazy cat person.”

Pitch sighs. “Things were so much better when you were too turned on to be bratty."

"I guess that gives you incentive to fuck me again sometime," Jack says, lifting his head to grin at Pitch.

"I suppose it does."

"Next time you want to put me in my place," Jack says, and he means to sound playful but he sounds needy and breathless instead. Feeling warmth in his cheeks, Jack looks away. "Is there somewhere in here with hot water? We're kind of a mess."

It's an incredibly clumsy redirect and Jack's surprised that Pitch lets it slide.

He takes Jack to a cavern filled with steam. Hot water rushes from a crack in the wall and they stand under it, washing away all evidence of what they just did. No, not all evidence, Jack thinks, looking down at his wrists and seeing the bruises that circle them. A thrill snakes through him at being marked; at having a physical reminder of this. 

Once they're clean and dry they return to the living room and Jack pushes Pitch down into a chair and clambers back into his lap. Jack’s not willing for this to be over just yet – not ready to go back to the real world where this was a really bad idea.

He sighs in Pitch's arms, breathing him in. Jack is perfectly content here: in the candlelit living room; in Pitch’s arms. He could be happy here. Pitch could read him more stories; they could drink more of heady dark stuff – more slowly this time. It would be fun to explore the lair, learning all of its secrets – learning Pitch’s, too. Getting to know him, to _understand_ him.

And then, clear as looking in the mirror, Jack sees what he would become. Cold, cold eyes, skin paler than it is now, and a crooked smile laced with cruelty. Jack couldn’t stay here and be unchanged. Pitch might not even mean to do it, but his presence would change Jack, more than Jack could ever hope to change him.

The image is like a splash of icy water. It's just a silly thought, but it makes Jack realise that he needs to leave. He needs to go and _think_ about this, and he's not going to be able to think about anything with Pitch around.

Jack stands, feeling unsteady as a newborn deer. He picks up his clothes and puts them on, then stretches, rolling his aching shoulders. The ache is a reminder of what they just did and he bites his lip, wanting to do it all over again.

Pitch watches him from his chair, not bothering to hide the hunger in his eyes.

“See something you like?” Jack asks with a wink.

“Yes.” Pitch stands and pulls on his robe, shadows melting from it to cover the rest of him.

“Neat trick.”

There’s a long pause where Pitch gazes at Jack curiously, then grabs his wrist.

"You're afraid," Pitch says, an odd note in his voice. "You're afraid of- Not of me. Of yourself."

Jack pulls his hand away with a laugh. "It's just a passing thought, that's all."

That makes Pitch smile and he gives a soft little laugh. "Ah, but passing thoughts are never just passing thoughts. There's something insidious about them - they always come back, haunting and stalking - and that's where I come in."

"There's such a thing as overdramatic, Pitch," Jack says, rolling his eyes.

"Perhaps," says Pitch with an elegant shrug. "We'll see."

“Anyway. I need to go. Snow days to cause and all that."

Pitch looks at him for another long moment, then releases him. “As you wish,” he says, then turns, sweeping away from Jack and heading to the door. Jack grabs his staff and hurries after him, not wanting to get left behind.

"You gonna see me out?" Jack asks. "That's pretty sweet of you."

"As you said, you're a guest,” Pitch says, looking over his shoulder. His eyes flash silver in the dark. “As a host - even if I didn't invite you - I have certain obligations."

Jack nods. "Then - lead on, I guess."

They take the same route as they did on the way in, through the dimly lit corridor with the carved floor that seems to hurt Jack’s feet more this time, as though punishing him for leaving.

"You said you were trapped here," Jack says as they come to the cavern, shafts of light breaking the darkness into gloom. "But there are so many ways out. What's keeping you trapped?"

"Fear," Pitch says with a humourless smile, in a tone that stops further questions.

Jack licks his lips. Pitch scares Jack as much as he tempts him. It's a contrast and a puzzle, a muddle of feelings Jack can’t begin to untangle. Thinking of the image of his dark self, Jack thinks that he shouldn't try.

“So, uh,” Jack says. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Thank _you_. It’s been a long time since I’ve had so much… fun.”

Jack laughs, then turns to go. His feet leave the ground but he pauses and looks over his shoulder. He meets Pitch’s eyes and before he can think better of it, closes the distance between them and kisses him. Pitch’s lips are soft, and part ever so slightly at the touch. The kisses are gentle at first; exploratory as they test what the other wants. The way Pitch responds is so – patient. Indulgent. Like he’s letting Jack have his way, letting him lead, because he knows that if –when – they do this again, he’ll be the one in control.

Really, though, Jack has nothing resembling control. His arms go around Pitch and he licks into Pitch’s mouth hungrily. Pitch’s own arms go around Jack’s waist lightly and it’s not enough, he wants to be held tightly, he wants to be pushed up against the wall and boxed in—

Breathless, Jack pulls away. He’s supposed to be _leaving_ , not starting this all over again.

 _That was the first time I kissed him,_ Jack realises, breathing heavy. Pitch kissed him, when they were tangled up in each other, but this time it was Jack’s choice. That means something, he thinks. Something important. He licks his lips and rests his forehead against Pitch’s. The fear of staying ebbs away, and Jack realises that makes it even more important for him to go.

He flits away from Pitch, out of his arms, and gives his cheekiest smile. “You gonna miss me?”

“In your dreams, Frost,” Pitch says, with a smile as double-edged as his words.

“I’ll be back,” Jack says, softer than he means to. “I need to see if you change your mind about joining me.”

“Nothing to do wanting more incredible sex?”

Jack bites his lip. “Maybe a little.”

“I hope so.”

“Does that mean I have an official invite?”

Pitch tilts his head back and looks at Jack, as though he’s weighing up his response. And maybe he is. For all that Jack’s absolutely certain that Pitch enjoyed the sex as much as he did, is that enough for him to want Jack to return? 

Eventually he nods. “Yes. You can come back. As long as it’s for the same reason.”

Another faint urge to stay trickles through Jack, so he nods and flits further away, but still he doesn’t leave. He looks up, decides which of the portals he’ll use, and then he looks back at Pitch.

 _Fuck it,_ he thinks, and kisses him again. This time Pitch is more forceful, holding Jack tightly and thrusting his tongue into Jack’s mouth, leaving him shaking and feeling ravished.

“You should go, Jack,” he says with smile and a dangerous glint in his eyes. “While I still let you.”

Jack’s not entirely sure if he’s being serious, and doesn’t plan to hang around to find out. “Oh yeah? You think you can take me?”

Pitch doesn’t say anything; he just keeps smiling that dangerous smile, and something in Jack responds to it, a tug that makes him want to drop back down to earth and walk over to Pitch, to kneel before him. That image of his dark self flashes into Jack’s mind again.

 _Passing thoughts are never just passing thoughts_.

He hovers a little higher and clenches his jaw. “Then – bye.” He feels like he should say something more but he needs to go, _now_. He darts off, leaving a flurry of snowflakes in his wake.

===

Jack’s been keeping busy.

In Burgess, the leaves have faded from green to a kaleidoscope of reds and oranges, and that means it’s time for the first frosts, the first tentative flurries of snow. Jack loves this time of year. It’s when everyone can see how beautiful the frost is, how much fun the snow can be, even the grown-ups. Give them a month or so and they’ll be complaining, but right now everyone has is smiling.

As night falls, Jack lands on a rooftop, bathed in silver moonlight and the gold of Sandy's dreams. He smiles up at the sky and walks with dancing steps over the roof then leaps over to the next one. He glances over at the shadowed forest and licks his lips. Thoughts of Pitch creep into his mind and he has to tear his gaze away.

It’s only been a week. What does it mean that he already wants to go back? That he’s wanted to go back since he left? The whole reason he left was so that he could think about this – about what they did, what he wants, _why_ he wants it. But whenever he thinks about it, he’s hit by a wave of longing to do it all again, to feel the pleasure and the contentment, to feel Pitch’s arms around him.

And then he thinks about that image of himself, so dark and cold, and it gives him pause.

It never makes him want to go back any less though.

What does it mean that Jack wants Pitch so badly? Is there something dark in him, something that craves fear and chaos?

Jack takes to the air, like if he can fly fast enough or far enough he’ll be able to escape his thoughts; but they’re a part of him, just as much as the cold. He’s filled with longing, wanting to feel Pitch’s fingers in his hair again, to be on his knees and hear Pitch’s murmurs of approval.

Racing through time zones, he finds a place where a new day is dawning. He dives down to the earth, bringing snow and ice and laughter, and it subdues the thing inside him that aches for the dark.

It’s still there, though, waiting.

It always will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No particular version of dark!Jack inspired Jack's vision, but I really love all versions of [dark!Jack](http://raining-in-adelaide.tumblr.com/tagged/dark!jack) <3
> 
> (Main notes after the epilogue.)


	9. Epilogue (Pitch POV)

Pitch gazes at the waterfall, spilling into the silver pool. Strange how a cessation from loneliness makes it all the worse when it returns. Even if he’d _known_ in his bones that Jack’s visit was temporary, a passing snow storm, it hadn’t stopped him hoping.

If Jack had stayed; if he had wanted to…

But no. Pitch was nothing but a plaything to Jack Frost, just like the whole world is there for Jack’s amusement.

And really, Pitch enjoyed it as much as Jack did. That it was a fleeting thing hadn’t made it any less satisfying to see him on his knees, those pretty blue eyes just _begging_ to be put in his place. Being inside him, cold and tight and uniquely _Jack_ had been incredible, and Pitch wants more…

Like always, Pitch wants what he can’t have.

There was that delicious, momentary fear, though. The _passing thought_ –

The temperature drop is sudden, and Pitch’s eyes widen, startled. Hope wells in him. He tries to dash it but it is stubborn and sticks to him. Pitch gazes down into the water and sees his smiling reflection.

Perhaps, just maybe, he can have what he wants after all. Mastering his smile, adding a measure of knowing confidence, he turns to see Jack still half-hidden in shadows. Cold light flashes off white hair and bright eyes, but there’s no smile. He looks conflicted but he’s _here_.

What this means, what this will become, Pitch doesn’t know. Fear that Jack will leave him again – that he’ll be _alone_ here in the dark – trickles through Pitch but he grasps it, owns it, shapes it. If Jack goes, he’ll return. He can’t help wanting this any more than Pitch can.

“Welcome back,” he calls.

With hesitant steps Jack comes to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly: Thank you SO MUCH for reading, for commenting, for kudos and likes and reblogs. It means the world to me. 
> 
> This is the not-so angsty version (in fact, it's more of a melding of the two versions, but keeping the less-angsty tone). I can't see these two ever having a traditionally happy ending; they might be happy together but they're just so bad for each other. That's pretty much why I love them. 
> 
> And really, for Pitch and Jack, this is not so much an ending as a beginning. 
> 
> Writing this has been a lot of fun, and very challenging at times, but your support has kept me going. 
> 
> Thank you <3


End file.
